23. Esmé
23
ESMé
I stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in the silk robe Iris bought me on her and Luc’s honeymoon. The pyjama set included a slinky tank top and a pair of little shorts.
When the door clicked shut behind me, Matteo looked up and a spark of heat in his eyes made my skin prickle.
Was I nervous about my choice of clothes? Absolutely. Should I have worn a thick button up sleep suit to spend the evening with Matteo? Definitely. But thanks to our brush with danger on the zip line, I had a welt the size of a small country under my right butt cheek. The strap of the harness had cut into my skin and anything clingy was out of the question.
I plastered on a steady smile that didn’t match the pounding of my heart. I’d just spent the last few minutes under the shower jet practicing all the yoga breathing I could remember, but nothing had slowed its rhythm.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t drive away the memory of Matteo’s hands on my skin, his body wrapped around mine against the onslaught of the rain as we’d made it off the zipline course. And then, in the car, how he’d reached out and touched me. And, crazily enough, I held his hand .
Was it because he’d opened up about losing his family? Maybe. But I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t wanted to touch him, too. Yes, he was younger than me, and pursuing him was miles outside my comfort zone. But there was something about Matteo that drove me to distraction. The moment he touched me, all sense and reason evaporated.
I moved toward the kitchen, my feet padding gently against the old floorboards. He looked up and grinned his usual lop-sided smile, and my heartbeat kicked up anew.
When we got back to Paris, Matteo was still wet. I gave him access to my ex’s old dresser, and he’d chosen a white cotton shirt. He’d left it unbuttoned at the top, just like before, and the glimpse of his chest resembled a rich, polished oak. I bit at my bottom lip. Didier who?
Matteo had dried his sweatpants. They now clung snugly to his thighs as he leaned over a little pot on the counter, holding a tiny spoon in his hand.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
He ran his eyes over me before returning to his work. Along with the bowl, one of my dad’s ancient pestle and mortars lay on the side and the most amazing smell of fresh herbs tickled my nose.
“I made something to help with your …” he glanced down at the top of my legs. “Your burn.”
I leaned over to look inside the bowl. A dark green paste clung to the sides. The mixture filled my tiny kitchen with a fresh, earthy scent. The door of one of my cupboards lay open, and I prayed to the kitchen gods that I hadn’t left a mess inside. “Where did you…?”
“Your herb pots,” he said, answering my question before I’d asked. The corners of his mouth danced as he worked. “Like I said before, I’m useful in the kitchen.”
And damn if he wasn’t. Last time I’d left him alone in my apartment, he’d made pasta and the most incredible sage butter sauce. This time, I had the feeling his concoction wasn’t for eating.
He put down his spoon and popped a fingertip into his mouth, sucking it with a smile. As he moved, his dark curls clung to his forehead, leaving his eyes in shadow. “It’s medicinal. For burns. Honey and herbs, some olive oil. My grandmother would use it in summer when I got sunburnt at the beach.”
The childhood picture of Matteo from the lodge flashed in my mind, and I pushed a strand of damp hair behind my ear.When I met his gaze again, he held the bowl out to me. “Try it.”
I blinked. “Show me.”
He smiled, faint creases forming at the corners of his eyes. Matteo dipped a finger into the bowl, then gently grasped my hand.
With his eyes on mine, he turned it over, exposing the delicate skin at my pulse point. He paused for the briefest moment, drawing a soft breath, before spreading the green mixture onto my skin.
“Like this,” he said.
His touch was featherlight—like I was made of fine porcelain and might break at any moment. The surrounding air contracted, and I let out a shaky breath at his touch. The second I did, he stared at me, eyes on fire. They were alive with heat and desire that had nothing to do with friction burns or harness straps.
I pulled my hand away, rubbing the sticky mixture into my skin. “This could get messy.”
He gave a shrug. “I can help, if you like.” His voice was so low, so thick, that his words sent my heart into a skitter.
“How?” I whispered.
He picked up the bowl on the counter, took my hand, and led me to the rug in the middle of my sitting room. He steadied me at its centre, then turned me to face the window.
Paris lay shrouded in darkness, with only a few lights glimmering in the little square outside. My cheeks glowed scarlet in the faint reflection. But when Matteo dropped to his knees behind me, my eyes flew wide.
“What are you doing?”
“Shhh,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s fine. I’m helping you.”
I bunched my fingers to stop them trembling. I didn’t know if I should be grateful or terrified. And what exactly was he helping me with?
He settled on his knees and took a scoop of the herb mixture with his fingers. He looked up at me with dark, hooded eyes, and brought his other hand to the bottom of my robe. He hesitated there for a second. “You’ll need to take this off,” he said, his voice barely registering decibels. “I don’t want to get it dirty.”
I didn’t say a word—literally couldn’t. Instead, my breath hovered somewhere in my throat.
“Esmé?”
His voice pulled me from my stupor. “Yes?”
“Can you take this off?”
I swallowed hard. Could I? Probably. Should I? Probably not. But as the sting at my bottom pulsed in time with my racing heartbeat, I found myself fresh out of reasons to say no.
With trembling fingers, I undid the sash and shrugged it off, tossing it to the nearby couch. I looked back at our reflection in the window and saw the hungry look on his face. My heart kicked up to a drum roll.
Matteo was about to touch me.
Did I want him to touch me? The thrum in my body answered that question.
“Es,” he said, meeting my eyes in the reflection. “May I?” He motioned to the tiny pyjama shorts I wore. “I can’t get to … it’s too …”
He stumbled on his words and my heart went out to him. He sounded vulnerable. Unsure. I was used to his bravado and teasing. He cleared his throat softly. “May I touch you?”
If he didn't, I swear the taut pull of air in the room might shatter around us. Against all my common sense and better judgement, I nodded, pulling my shorts aside to reveal the line of burn underneath my buttock. I swear his cheeks reddened. The apple at his throat bobbed as he brought his fingers to my skin.
The second he touched me, I closed my eyes, letting out a shaky breath. Damn my traitorous lungs. Had they no shame?
I didn’t want Matteo knowing how much I’d dreamed of this moment. When he’d touch me—melt me—and I could throw away all my doubts and fears; all the reasons I’d told myself we couldn’t be a thing. Right now, as his skin softly brushed over mine, I was ready to throw in the “sensible” towel and step aboard the crazy train.
While his fingers worked the sticky paste into my skin, my brain catapulted from pillar to post. From desire to reason. My heart hammered hard in my chest, thundering in my ears. How could he not hear? How could he not know the effect his touch had on me?
I bunched my fists and held my breath. I’d fought my desire so far. Since our crazy meeting on the chairlift, our accidental kiss, and the shower Matteo took here, I’d played my cards like a pro.
Being with him every day, I’d denied the glances he sent me across the gallery when he thought I wasn’t looking. Denied the intensity of being near him. I’d even denied the way just his smile sent a delicious tingle to the bottom of my belly.
And now he was touching me, his thumb drawing the softest line at the top of my thigh .
Heat bloomed beneath his touch, radiating outward until it tangled with my breath.
I should stop the madness now. Slow down my heart and back away from the danger. But as his fingertips moved over my skin, I couldn’t find the will or the words. But no, I had to keep control—had to distract myself. Blindly, I grasped at the first thing that came to mind.
“Do you compete?” I asked, my voice high and tight. I kept my eyes closed, not daring to look at him.
“Sorry?” His voice was as tight as mine.
“You’re some kind of extreme sports superstar.”
He let out a throaty chuckle. “Hardly.”
“Well, you’re a minor celebrity, at least. You said on the course that you don’t post your crazier content anymore. Do you race or anything like that?”
“No. I spend my time finding smooth, virgin snow on the highest mountains in the world.”
Coming from his lips, why did that sound so wrong? So, naughty. Like melted chocolate on hot skin. I licked my lips. “How do you do that?”
He paused. “By helicopter.”
“You jump out of helicopters looking for snow?”
He chuckled. “We don’t jump. But a helicopter gives us access to the most pristine powder and the highest peaks. The rush of descending the mountain is incredible.”
“You’re a heli-skier?” That would account for him being so comfortable on the snow. I saw an article recently in a travel magazine. Young, attractive skiers; gleaming, new equipment. Not a Pikachu sticker in sight. Matteo was in good company.
“That’s it,” he said, as if his “hobby” was on a par with gardening or stamp collecting.
His breath brushed the skin of my buttock, and I closed my lashes tight. His lips must be only millimetres away.
“Isn’t that dangerous?” Did I mean him or the sport ?
He chuckled, the sound curling my toes. “Not really. Not if you know what you’re doing.” As he spoke, he drew his fingers lightly along the back of my thigh, travelling a little further across the top of my leg than my burn.
Every nerve in my body jumped to attention, and a tingling pulsed between my legs. I pulled in a shaky breath.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
I opened my eyes and looked over my shoulder at him. His gaze met mine, brimming with need. My core pulsed harder. At the upturn of his lips, I didn’t doubt he knew the effect his touch had on me.
“Yes, I’m just …”
He ran his thumb along the underside of my butt cheek again and my words turned into a sigh.
The noise escaped before I could catch it, sounding hollow in the large room. At its high pitch, I swear I could audition for the Paris Opera.
“What?” he asked, his voice husky, delicious, and low.
The room closed in around me and I groped for something to hold on to. I was in peril of turning to mush under Matteo’s fingertips.
I reached behind, placing a hand on his solid shoulder. “Matteo, this is … this …”
His voice broke over the top of mine. “ This is all I’ve wanted to do since we met on the chairlift.” He brushed his hand down the back of my thigh. “Your skin is just as soft as it looks.”
I blinked, my breath thinning. Damn him for muddying the waters of my sanity. “It is?”
He nodded slowly. “You don’t know how much I want you. And …” he paused, bringing his lips to the skin at the side of my hip. “I hoped you might want me, too. Do you?”
I looked down at him, heat passing between us like lightning rending the air. I bit on my lip and nodded.
The slowest smile spread across Matteo’s lips, and he closed a hand around my bottom, avoiding my burn. I sucked in a breath, my legs melting like candle wax under his touch.
“But we can’t,” I whispered.
“Why not?” His hot breath grazed the skin on my hip, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
“It’s wrong,” I murmured. Why did I sound so unconvincing?
“Not from where I’m kneeling,” he said, his fingers gently circling the back of my thigh.
I dug my fingernails into his shirt, anchoring myself against his hard shoulder. Was it wrong to want a man so much? I never imagined it possible to crave someone so desperately, as if I might forget how to breathe without him.
Matteo’s warm breath bathed my skin, as he gently bit into the underside of my buttock, then kissed the same spot. “I want to taste you,” he breathed. “You know, my name means ‘gift from God’.”
My heart pounded in my chest. “Does it?”
He nodded slowly. “May I show you?”
Under the onslaught of his lips and exemplary manners, I lost the ability to speak. I could only nod and when I opened my mouth, all that came out was a breathy whimper.
Matteo smiled and closed his eyes for a second, as if savouring my silent agreement. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice thick with intent.
The air between us shifted. With a low growl, he turned me around slowly, moving his tongue over my skin, kissing me, speaking words I didn’t understand.
Each stroke, each press of his lips, sent shivers through me, and as he turned me to face him, it took everything I had not to cry out.
Matteo looked up at me like I was a precious jewel—like I was something he wanted to devour. I couldn’t tell which. I didn’t care which .
He pressed a kiss to my inner thigh, sending a hot bolt of need to my core. I pulled in a breath. How the hell was I still standing?
Finally, he brought his mouth to the base of my belly and watched me through heavy, lidded eyes. “Are you sure?”
I ran my fingers through the hair at his temple. “Yes.”
Matteo turned to kiss the inside of my palm before returning his lips to the top of my shorts, nudging them down a little way.
At the slide of silk on skin, my nipples pebbled. My body was on fire—my restraint all but crumbled.
I took his hand, guiding it to my breast. His fingers closed around me, gently stroking before teasing with a pinch through the fabric of my top. A delicious heat coiled low in my belly, tightening with every touch. I arched into him, lost in the sensation.
Matteo trailed his fingers from my breast, sweeping over my hip before resting at the waistband of my shorts. He slowly inched them down my body, his skin grazing mine, until they finally slipped past my legs.
I kicked them away and looked down at the man whose smile—whose very presence—had driven me to distraction. He watched me too, reaching to cup my buttock, digging his fingers into my flesh.At the pull lowdown in my belly, I sucked in a breath and dug my nails into his shoulder again.
“You’re incredible,” he said, his eyes glittering like stars. Then, with the sexiest grin he’d ever gifted me, Matteo leaned in, bringing his lips to my inner thigh. When I let out a small moan, he pushed my legs apart and brought his mouth to my centre.
The second his hot breath met my skin I threaded both hands through the curls on his head. I chased his mouth, chased his tongue, pulling him into me. He sought my breasts again. With every pass, each glance of his fingertips across their hardened peaks, the pressure at my core grew.
He watched me. Watched every reaction. Matched my energy with his own.
Every time I gripped his hair harder, he moved harder, burying his tongue deep inside me; just like I wanted … like I needed. Every time I released my grip, he slowed, peppering me with little kisses, as if he read my mind.
I bunched the collar of his shirt in my fist, and he let out a low groan. At the noise, I looked up, catching our reflection in the window—Matteo’s hand at my breast and his head between my legs. At the sight, heat pulsed low in my belly. Could anyone else see us? Did I care?
What I was doing here and now was so out of character. I did nothing unexpected, or “edgy,” as Matteo called it. Well, right now, I was edgy as hell. And I loved it.
As if reading my mind, Matteo gripped harder at my breast, bringing his lips to my clit, sucking a little before grazing the bundle of nerves with his teeth.
I drew in a breath, and he repeated the action, again and again, until I could barely see straight. The pressure of his mouth against me and the heat of his breath on my skin sent me higher and higher.
His tongue, his lips and his fingers sent me spinning into the stratosphere, and for once in my life, I didn’t care if I had a parachute. I was here for the thrill of the fall.
Here for him.
With a long brush of his tongue, Matteo gently bit into me, and I gasped, throwing my head back. The bolt of pure pleasure that slammed through my body was like nothing I’d ever experienced.
“You like that?” he whispered, his hot breath tormenting me .
I nodded, struggling to hold on to his collar. Struggling to breathe.
With a low chuckle, he did it again, only this time, I couldn’t contain the cry that left my body.
When he bit into me for the third time, my rational mind left the building. I tangled my fingers tightly through his hair and held on for dear life. At the fourth, I was ready to dissolve at his slightest touch. “Now,” I gasped, bringing him closer, trying to join the two of us together. “Please.”
With a growl, he pushed my thighs further apart and wrapped one of my legs around his shoulder. This time, he plunged his tongue deep inside me and I let out a cry. The instant he heard it, Matteo pulled back, bringing his lips to my core. “ Si, si, si ,” he whispered over and over again, the vibration and the intensity in his voice coaxing me along until he pushed me over the edge.
I seized his shoulders, rocking into him until all the strength left my legs.
At my last shuddering breath, he gently slid my leg from his shoulder, guiding me down his body so I knelt alongside him. I lay against his chest, my heart pounding beneath my ribs.
Within a beat, he slid his arms around my body, seeking my mouth, decorating my lips with tiny kisses. His hot skin burned into me and his eyes held a glimmer of something darker, something otherworldly. Had I died? Was this dark and oh so talented man the devil?
“Are you okay?” he asked, running his fingers over my hair, pushing it away from my face.
“I think so,” I murmured. “But maybe you should consider carrying a disclaimer. I don’t think I ever … how did you do that? Who taught you?”
He grinned and my gut twisted. Perhaps I’d do better not to ask.
Matteo cupped my face with his hands and kissed me gently on the forehead. “I only want to think of you. Would you like me to show you again?”
I swallowed. Something rising in my chest. “No, I want to show you what I know—how I can please you.”
That slow, sexy grin I delighted in spread over his lips. He opened his mouth to speak, but I didn’t wait to listen. I leaned in and kissed his neck. The smell of him, the heat of his body enveloping me.
As I moved my lips over his skin, Matteo let out a low groan that curled my insides. With a smile, I pulled away from him, taking his shirt in my hands, undoing its last few buttons. His eyes were on me the whole time, full of fire, and when I finally peeled it from his shoulders, he let out a shuddering breath.
With a soft smile, I pressed my lips to his chest, savouring the warmth and the smooth, firm contours beneath. I moved my fingertips, gently tracing over the planes of his muscles.
“Es,” he whispered. “I want to see you—feel you against me.”
With a last sweep of my tongue, I pulled back, slowly lifting the hem of my top, peeling it from my body.
“Better?” I asked, gripping my bottom lip with my teeth.
Matteo ran his eyes over me, his breath quick and uneven. His eyes shone like I was the most incredible thing he’d ever seen, and my heart swelled in my chest.
With his gaze on mine, he ran his fingertips over my skin, and it took all my strength not to melt into a heap in front of him. I reached down, seeking the waistband of his track pants.
“Stop,” he whispered.
I pulled my brows together and searched his eyes. At the longing deep within them, surely, he wasn’t having second thoughts. “What?”
“I just realised we haven’t kissed yet.” He brushed a thumb over my cheek.
I smiled. “Well, I’ve kissed you. On the chairlift. ”
He chuckled, winding his arms around me. “I don’t think this scenario is in the same league. You aren’t wearing your earmuffs.”
I giggled, barely getting the sound out before Matteo’s warm palms settled at the small of my back. He pulled me in, his breath mingling with mine. And then he kissed me—slow and sure, like he always knew we’d end up here—hopelessly lost in each other.
After a heartbeat, he grazed me with a gentle bite, and I parted my lips, inviting the warmth of his tongue.
We paused, breathing each other in for a moment, before a low growl came from Matteo’s chest and he pulled me closer, crushing his body against mine. I met his pressure, and we explored each other’s mouths and skin in a clash of heat.
My body pulsed with need. As we kissed, a tingle crept low in my belly and all I wanted to do was touch him—claim him. I trailed my hand across his rock-hard abs, pulling at his track pants.
He breathed against my mouth. “You can’t wait?”
“No,” I whispered. “I’ve waited long enough.”
In one movement, I found his tongue again, pushing his waistband away. When I freed his cock, Matteo kissed me harder, and I took his solid length in my hand. He groaned against my lips as I drew my palm along his hardness.
The heat of his skin, velvet-soft, sent a wildfire through me. I breathed in his cologne, his scent—then bit his neck.
Within a moment, his arms were tight around me, pulling me hard against him, and I swear I saw stars. He was all I wanted. All I could focus on.
“Matteo,” I ground out, “I don’t have anything. Any protection.” I hadn’t had sex for a year and with no intention of adding romance or even casual hook ups to my shopping list, I’d not bought condoms in ages. “Do you have anything? ”
He pulled away, his eyes raking over my face. “Will you think me bad if I say yes?”
I paused. Would I? He was young, with no responsibilities or obligations. If the shoe were on the other foot, I’d happily throw caution to the wind. If that meant carrying around a backpack full of condoms, I probably would.
I gave the tiniest shake of my head
Matteo leaned in, pressing a kiss to the tip of my nose, before nudging his sweatpants down.His solid thighs flexed as he kicked them off, leaving him still kneeling in front of me. He reached into his trackpants pocket, pulling out his wallet to retrieve a condom.
Keeping his eyes locked on mine, he tore the packet open with his teeth. He turned away slightly, his firm buttocks tensing as he rolled the condom on with practiced ease.
I looked over his shoulder at the window. I still hadn’t pulled my blind. “Should we move?”
Seeing the glass, his lips peaked. “Don’t you dare.”
He closed his hands around my waist, kissing my collar bone, running one palm downward, towards my burn. “I can protect your skin.” He made to move me underneath him, but I lay my hands against his chest, resisting.
“No. I want to be in control.”
Again, his lips curved, and his eyes filled with fire. “Go ahead.”
With a soft breath, I pushed Matteo down onto my rug, peppering his chest and stomach with tiny kisses, before straddling him. I stared at his body as he lay beneath me, his beauty making my chest ache. At the chill in the room, a shiver ran over me.
“You okay?” he whispered, running his hand across my stomach.
I nodded, and he smiled, tangling his fingers through my hair .
“I can’t believe how lucky I am,” he whispered. “I’ve thought about this moment since I met you.”
I smiled, an enormous balloon of warmth filling my chest. “Me too,” I said, taking his hand and kissing his fingertips.
Holding his gaze, I took his length in my other hand and lifted my body, slowly sliding onto him.
As he filled me, he closed his eyes and tipped his head back with a groan. His Adam's apple bobbed in the light and a smile grew on my lips. Matteo was here for me —wanting me —needing me .
As I rolled my hips against him, the press of our skin sent a deep, aching fullness through my body. I shifted, taking him deeper, but as I did, my friction burn brushed his skin and I gasped.
Matteo opened his eyes and came up onto his elbows. “Es?” he murmured, a furrow between his brows.
“I’m fine,” I said. “I’ll just need to take it a bit easier.”
He let out a breath and shook his head. “No problem.” He shifted onto one elbow, threading his other arm around my back, pulling me down against his chest. When we hit the rug together, I softened, my heart pulsing against his.
He kissed me softly, and I moved on him, testing out how he filled me. How much of him I could take. With each movement, the pressure at the base of my belly sparked.
The ache was deep and exquisite. As I rode his length, my heart beat faster, skipping and pulsing, and I knew that soon I’d be wrecked. Shattered and wasted by his touch and the feel of his body.
Over and over, I rocked against him, my fingernails digging into his chest. As we moved together, he was so careful not to brush my damaged skin, pulling away every time, leaving me chasing the feeling of him inside me—chasing the rush of our bodies coming together .
Our breath mingled, whispered words on our lips. Thoughts of Matteo, and the two of us together, filled my very being. He was all I needed—all I craved. His heat at my neck and his body joined with mine.
My mind spun in a haze as I moved against him, chasing my pleasure. I closed my eyes, the image of his dark gaze searing into my thoughts. His ragged breaths filled the quiet of my apartment, each one sending a shiver through me.
Every stroke, every time our skin met, filled me with ecstasy—took me to a higher plane before it was all I could do not to beg him to move faster—to drive into me even deeper. I said I wanted control and he’d given it to me. Waiting on my cues.
The most delicious fingers of need wrapped around my belly, spreading lower, and I clamped onto his shoulders, digging my fingernails into his skin.
Every time I dug deeper or moved faster, his breath caught. Until finally, when he opened his hooded eyes, locking them onto mine, I knew there was no coming back.
I thrust against him three more times. A low growl vibrated in his chest, sending shivers through my body, all the way to my soul, as if his energy filled the room itself.
I had no chance of holding off much longer. “Matteo,” I gasped. “I want to … please …”
Without hesitation, his arms closed around me. He flipped me over, taking care to cup his hand over my burn, protecting it from the rug. I tensed against him, shrinking back from the pain that I knew would come if I touched the floor.
“No, let me,” he whispered in my ear. “I promise I’ll look after you. I won’t let anything hurt you.”
I froze as his eyes burned into me, hotter than lava.
“I promise,” he whispered, kissing my forehead.
I blinked slowly before nodding my head. Matteo knew what I needed, and it felt so good not to have to be in charge. I relaxed against him, closing my hands around his tight buttocks.
With a groan, He slowly moved, pushing into me, watching my face. “Is this okay?” he asked. I shook my head, and his face clouded.
“It’s not enough,” I whispered, a smile woven into my words.
He furrowed his brow, bracing over me on one muscular arm.
“I need you deeper.” I said, pulling him into me.
At my request, he pushed harder, taking my breath away. He ran his eyes over my face. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t,” I whispered, meeting his lips with mine.
He growled and thrust again.
“Harder,” I said against his mouth.
He hesitated, but again, I pulled him in. “Do it.”
I dug my nails into his skin, and his eyes darkened before he drove into me over and over, always careful to keep his hand over my burn, protecting my skin.
His ragged breath filled my ear, heating the skin at my neck, and I let my head fall back as I savoured the waves of pressure pulsing through my body. I’d never experienced the hard push and pull of desire that Matteo gave me. Or the need that coursed through my every fibre—my every nerve.
In that moment, he was the centre of my world. His body was all I wanted. His care was all I could ask for.
“ Dio ,” Matteo growled beside my ear, his body tensing against me.
That one word was all it took for me to let go with him. To indulge in his body—in mine.
“ Si ,” I whispered, my breath hard, coming in quick bursts.
When I spoke, his eyes flickered open, their fire igniting something deep within me. And in that raw, electric moment, everything else faded away .
Matteo found my hand, threading his fingers through mine. Then, with our chests pressed together and hearts racing, we tumbled into the moment, tangled in each other, not caring who or where we were.